“Well, then who…”
I don’t even bother finishing my thought, because I know Mom’s not going to speculate about the source of the flowers on the phone with me. Not on a personal call, anyway.
“Must be a secret admirer,” she whispers. “Gotta go, honey. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I say before she hangs up. Sure, a secret admirer who signs my flowers from my kid. I don’t care what planet you’re on, that’s totally creepy.
I try not to think about it as I drive to Bailey’s day care, or when I apologize to Lana for spelling her name wrong (to which she laughs), or as Bailey’s pulling out each of her little cards on the way home and fake-reading them to me from the backseat. I even try not to think about it when she asks where I got the flowers. “A little birdie gave them to me,” I tell her.
There’s a knock at the door around five thirty, and Bailey immediately hops up from the picture she’s coloring.
“Jay’s here!” she announces, as though she needs to do so. He’s become a pretty steady fixture in the evenings, just kind of hanging out with us until Bailey goes to sleep each night.
She twists the door knob, pulls the door open, and lets out a squeal. Jake’s face is impossible to see, because he’s holding a gray stuffed rabbit that looks to be at least three feet long, along with a host of other things.
“Is Jake hiding under there somewhere?” I ask mischievously. Bailey giggles and places her hands over her mouth.
He pops his head around the rabbit and widens his eyes at Bailey. “I’m here. This guy thought he might be able to be a friend to Hoppy. What do you think?”
“I think him’s super big!” Bailey reaches up to take the bunny from his arm, and he immediately steadies the boxes in his other hand.
“Hey,” he says as he glances in my direction. “So I thought about taking my girls out tonight, but I figured with it being Valentine’s Day and everything, it might be crowded.”
“Your girls? Have you decided to adopt me?” I can’t help but laugh as I place my hands on my hips.
“Still considering it.” He hands me the top box. “Pizza. Half cheese for Bailey, half sausage and mushrooms for you.”
Turning my back to him, I place the pizza box on the counter and pause to think for a second. “How did you know I like sausage and mushrooms?” I busy myself with the box, not wanting to see his reaction.
“Just guessed, since you put them in your spaghetti. Seemed logical.”
To say that I expected a different explanation would be an understatement, but his response seems pretty genuine.
“Nice flowers,” he adds, pointing to the bouquet on the other end of the counter.
“Yeah, got them at school.” Spinning to face him, I tilt my head to the side. “What’s in the box?”
“Nope. I can’t give away all my secrets right off the bat.”
He slides the extra box next to the flowers, and I pull out three plates for the pizza. The tiny table in the kitchen is barely big enough for the three of us. At first, when Jake stayed for dinner, it made for some awkward conversations. Now, it just seems like the new normal.
“Did you have a good Valentine’s Day?” Jake asks Bailey, picking a mushroom off his pizza. It’s probably silly that the sight of it makes my heart swell in my chest, but knowing Jake doesn’t like mushrooms makes his gesture of putting them on the pizza a little more heartfelt.
“Uh huh. We eated cookies with sprinkles and I got a big box of suckers.”
“You got cards from a bunch of suckers?” He catches my eye and winks.
“No,” Bailey says with a hint of exasperation. “Suckers like yummy suckers. The licky kind.”
“Oh, gotcha. Get any cards from your boyfriends?”
“Ew.” She takes a bite of her pizza and a string of cheese hangs off her chin. “Boys are yucky.”
“You do know I’m a boy, right?”
“You’re okay. Boys like my size are yucky.”
“Good. You stay away from boys. That’s a good policy.”
He pauses to take a bite of his pizza, and I take the opportunity to insert myself into the conversation.
“So, how about you? Did you have a good Valentine’s Day?”
“I worked with Zippy all day, so it wasn’t great.”
“Zippy?”
“I can’t remember the kid’s name. They call him Zippy because it takes him so long to do things, and it just kind of stuck, I guess.”
“Not your best day ever, then,” I say as I lean back slightly in my chair. “Most memorable Valentine’s Day. Shoot.”
“Wow, let’s see…” He glances over at Bailey and uses his napkin to wipe some pizza sauce off her chin. “Besides this one, naturally? I’d have to say third grade.”
“That’s pretty specific. This must be a mesmerizing story.”
“Horrific is more like it. I didn’t have any of those little cards to hand out, so the teacher put a piece of tape over the slot in my coffee can.”
“A piece of tape?”
“Yeah, so no one could drop their cards in, right? At the end of the day, only one card had made its way inside. Faye. She had to have picked that tape back to get her card inside and then sealed it back up.”
“She must have really liked you. I can see why that stands out.”
He begins picking at his pizza and looks down at his plate. “Well, it stands out because I was a jerk about it. I didn’t want a card from Faye. She was the outcast of the class. Funny hair, always smelled a little weird. I made a big point of giving it back to her in front of everyone. Proving that I didn’t need her charity, I guess. She cried.”
“That’s horrible. If it were possible for me to think less of you as a person, I would.”
That comment earns me a rather smug, crooked smile. “Because you already have the lowest possible opinion of me, I guess?”
“Naturally.”
“Alright then, little miss perfect. Your most memorable Valentine’s Day.”
It takes me a few seconds to scan through the days past and pick a stand-out. “Okay, it was my senior year, and there was this guy named—“
“Cody Hewitt. Continue.”
My mouth hangs open just a tad as Jake takes a bite of his pizza. “Maybe you should tell the story, since you seem to know so much.”
“Does this guy have any clue what an idiot he is?” he asks through a mouthful of pizza, holding his napkin in front of his lips.
“We don’t say that word.” I glance from him to Bailey and back again, hoping he gets my drift.
“Idiot, no kidding?” I widen my eyes, and he shrugs apologetically as he focuses on Bailey. “Right. Bailey, we don’t say that word.”
“Jay says it,” she states, pulling some cheese from her pizza.
“Clearly I’ll have to work on that.” He leans back in his chair and places his hands in his lap as he returns his attention to me. “This Cody guy must be a few fries short of a Happy Meal. That’s all I’m saying.”
“That’s easy to say when you don’t know him.”
“I don’t want to know the guy. Anybody who could treat you like that isn’t worth the wasted effort.”
“Really?” Pizza all but forgotten, I cross my arms against my chest. “It seems to me that it wasn’t that long ago that you weren’t particularly nice to me, Mr. McAuliffe.”
“Solidly before the official ‘friend’ phase. I can’t be held responsible for anything before that point.”
“How very convenient for you.”
He has a slightly roguish glint in his eyes as he picks up another slice of pizza. “Alright, let’s have it. What did Boy Wonder do on Valentine’s Day?”
“He showed up after dinner to do his homework and he brought me a pink rose, but he also brought one for my mom.”
“Like a Mrs. Robinson thing.” He picks a mushroom off his slice and drops it to his plate before taking another bite.
“Of course not. It was real
ly sweet.”
“Manipulative,” he states around a mouthful of pizza.
“Not in any way.”
“How can you not see it?” He lifts his glass of water and takes a drink, drawing his eyebrows closer together before he places the glass on the table again. “It’s like that slimy kid on Leave It to Beaver, always kissing up to the mom. Can’t trust that guy.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I mutter, returning to my pizza.
“Mommy says it!” Bailey proclaims, clapping her hands. Naturally Jake laughs at my expense.
“For your information, kissing up to my mom isn’t really beneficial. I rarely listen to her advice. Look how long she wanted me to talk to you before I finally decided to allow you a smidge of leeway.”
“Your mom recognizes me for the rare gem that I am.”
“She’s half blind, seriously. She needs bifocals.”
“Did you know your parents had my dad over for dinner Sunday?”
“What?”
“He told me last night that my girlfriend’s parents had him over for dinner. Made him meatloaf and potatoes, and even sent him home with half a chocolate cake.”
“Wow.”
“He thinks they were buttering him up for something.”
“Like the slimy kid on Leave It to Beaver,” I offer with a hint of a smile.
“Exactly.” He drops his napkin on his plate and leans forward on his elbows. “He’s been sober for three weeks.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re still teasing me.”
“Totally serious.”
I reach out and wrap my fingers around his arm, not really sure what to say. His eyes lock on mine, all hints of mischief gone from his face. He brings his hand over to cover mine on his arm, tracing a line horizontally back and forth with his thumb.
“Thanks,” he whispers, not breaking his focus.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your eyes did. They’re very vocal.”
My gaze drops to the table, and I clear my throat. “What did they say?”
“Everything you won’t. You have beautiful eyes.”
I gently extract my hand from his and rub it self-consciously against my collarbone.
“Bailey play with Zippy now?”
Quite possibly the most welcome interruption I have ever experienced. Looking at Bailey, I force a smile. “Zippy?”
“Jay’s bunny.” She slides off her chair and joins the rabbit in the living room, where she scoops him up and hauls him in the direction of her bedroom.
“Home run with the rabbit,” I tell him as I stand and pick up her plate, placing it on top of mine. Turning to the sink, I begin rinsing the plates as Jake drops his in from my left. Continuing past me, he picks up the white box that he deposited next to the flowers.
“So, I got you a little something,” he announces, gesturing toward me with the box. After turning off the faucet, I reach down for the towel and dry my hands before taking a step in his direction.
“What is it?”
He places the box in my hands, but I don’t make a move to open it.
“Only one way to find out.”
“It’s not going to jump out at me, or bite me?”
He raises his eyebrows as he watches me, the hints of brown and gold flecks in his eyes standing out as he tries again to read me. I’m fairly determined not to be so transparent.
Lifting the lid of the box, I stare down at the pattern of blues and reds with the large white T on the logo. “It’s a Tennessee Titans jersey,” I announce, although why I feel that necessary is beyond me. Jake knows what it is, after all.
“Yeah,” he says, plucking it out of the box. “It’s your size though, see? The one you have is from high school and big enough to fit a three-hundred pound linebacker.”
His statement makes me want to laugh, but I manage to keep it together. “What difference does that make, really?”
“To the guy watching the game with you in the future, it’ll make a huge difference.”
“How huge?”
“You’re covering up a stunning picture with a tent. Why do you have such a big jersey, anyway?” His fist drops to waist level with the jersey still held inside, and he nods almost imperceptibly as he stares down at his fingers. “It was his, right? Cody’s? I don’t know why that just dawned on me.”
“Yeah.” I set the box on the counter and reach forward to pull the jersey from Jake’s grasp, twisting it until I locate the back. Stretching it up over my head, I slide my arms up and into the sleeves, tugging it down over my T-shirt. “Perfect fit,” I add, smoothing it across my abdomen. “Way better than Cody’s. Thank you.”
He turns and looks at the tulips next to him, tapping his fingers absently against the countertop.
“Before you ask, I have no idea who those are from.” I reach for the envelope stuck to the top of the flowers, holding it toward him between my first two fingers.
“They’re from Bailey, right? I mean, that’s what I assumed.”
He rotates a little until he’s facing the living room, and then he rests his back pockets against the wall as he crosses his ankles.
“Hmm. Yeah, they’re from Bailey. Such a thoughtful kid, right? I guess it’s in her genes.”
“Must be,” he tells me with a shrug of his shoulders.
Stepping in front of him, I pinch him lightly in the stomach. “You’re full of surprises, you know that? The fact is… Ugh, I can’t believe I’m even going to say this.”
“What?” He straightens as he stretches himself a little taller, and I can’t help but smile.
“Maybe—in this one specific, teensy little case, as it pertains to you—I should have listened to my mother.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jake
Never in my wildest imagination did I think that I’d still be sleeping in the same bed I occupied on my first night in Louisville. Not after four and a half months. For the life of me I can’t figure out what’s keeping me here. The owners are nice, granted, but shouldn’t I want a little sense of permanence? Maybe a neighbor who is not Roxanne?
The sound of my truck door slamming must rouse her from her television viewing, because the door next to mine opens a couple inches as I step onto the breezeway.
“Hey, Roxanne,” I say as I shove the key into the lock. She fully opens the door when I acknowledge her presence, wearing pink sweatpants with one leg reaching to her shoe and the other pooled beneath her knee. Even though I have no way to prove it, somehow I know they’re the kind that have a word written on the rear end. “Sassy” or “feisty” or any other adjective that shouldn’t be on a person’s tail.
“Jacob.” She attempts to clear her throat, but I know it’s not going to help. Her growly voice is pretty permanent, as far as I can tell. Her shoulder-length blonde hair looks like she attempted to curl it, but the back is still stick straight. The pink lipstick she has on has bled into the little feathery wrinkles above her lips, too.
“It’s Jake,” I tell her for the millionth time.
“Honey, you’re not plain enough to be Jake.”
“And yet somehow it’s still Jake,” I add as I open the door. “Be good, Roxanne.”
“I’m always good,” she states through the door.
The clicking of the door should be enough, but I lock the deadbolt anyway. It’s the same exact sound I heard a few minutes ago when I left Wonder Lane. Just like every other night for the past few weeks, I watched Alexis tuck Bailey in, told them good night, and Alexis locked the door behind me when I stepped onto the porch.
I slide my coat off and drop it on the bed, running my hand through my hair. Things are kind of getting out of control. At first, it was fine seeing Bailey on Saturdays. Then I started seeing her a couple times a week, and before I knew it I became an every-night dinner guest. Now I’m there several hours each day, and when Bailey goes to sleep, all I want is to ask Alexis to let me stay a little longer. No part of me
wants to leave that house on Wonder Lane.
No better than my dad, in reality. Like an addict craving a fix.
Picking up my phone, I scroll through the contacts and stare at the names for a moment, wondering if I should reach out after so much time. Somewhere deep inside I doubt that it’s a good idea, but I’m missing some of the comforts of home. The parts of home that actually felt comforting, anyway.
The ring sounds twice before I consider hanging up, but as soon as I hear the click I know it’s too late. I sit up straighter on the bed, absently cracking my knuckles on my free hand while I wait for Parker’s voice to sound on the other end of the line.
“Jake?”
“Hey. Hope I’m not intruding on anything.”
“Are you kidding? You can call me anytime, you know that.”
There it is again—the forgiving nature I don’t deserve.
“Sorry to call so late, man. Just thinking about home tonight for some reason.”
“I can’t blame you there, because I do that myself. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I pause, readjusting myself to the fact that Cole is speaking to me at all. Part of me still doesn’t believe it. “I owe you a huge apology.”
“Water under the bridge.”
“Maybe for you but not for me. I’m sorry, and I’d tell her too if I thought it was a good idea.”
“Listen, we both know you’re sorry, okay? Cam was just asking me the other day if I’d heard from you. She was here a couple weeks ago but she’s back home now.”
“What do you mean, back home? You’re not still in Nashville are you?”
He laughs, and I can almost imagine us back at work, lining boards up while we chat.
“It really has been forever since I’ve talked to you. I’m training in Florida.”
“You’re yanking my chain.”
“It seems crazy, right? Still can’t believe it myself sometimes. How’s Bailey?”
“She’s absolutely the best kid imaginable. I go over there for dinner every night, practically.”
“You eat dinner with Alexis every night?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Trust me, things are different in Louisville. Don’t make a big deal of it, but I can sort of see why a guy might be interested in the whole family bit.”
Curiouser (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 3) Page 21